These And More Than These
by LxIsxJustice
Summary: "I will not forsake you." Nothing but the truth. "No one has ever meant it before," he whispered, holding his breath as the world began to blur at the edges. He sunk into the knowledge that he was not alone, wondering what a month, two months, an eternity would be with Ezekiel at his side. "I believe the phrase is 'their loss'," the angel replied. Sezekiel. Sam/Ezekiel.


**A/N: Oh my god so I'm so exhausted because I've been on the most intense writing jag the past two weeks, and I have literally left my house three times in that span because WORDS AND LANGUAGE AND SHIT! I cannot express the power writing has over me, whether it's for my novel and publishing or just some fandom smut, it doesn't matter. I love it. So, this was for a Sezekiel request over on tumblr (my username is probablycuzistartedtheapocalypse) and it turned into a full fledged oneshot complete with a bit of plot and lots of smut. I will get around to editing it eventually, but I'm just too tired at the moment. Let me know if there are any glaringly obvious problems. I kept the tone ethereal, because I really wanted it to blend Sam's headspace with reality, and Ezekiel's ability to counteract the pain of both his head and the harsh world outside it. Dear god, I am SO hoping Zeke is one of the good ones, because I so badly want there to be someone who will unconditionally aid Sam simply because he is worth it. I want Sammy to feel loved and forgiven and a little more at peace with himself, and if it takes an angel to do that, so be it. I barely touched on his beef with Dean, because I think he'd still be pissed at his brother, but perhaps if it went down like this, he'd be less inclined to hold a grudge ;) For some damn reason, "Unconditionally" by Katy Perry kept popping into my head, so go take a listen. Enjoy! **

"...Zeke?"

It was a last ditch attempt, if he was being perfectly honest. He'd given Dean more than enough time to tell him what had been on his mind-and seriously, how stupid did his brother think he was, he knew when Dean had a secret he was feeling guilty over-but so far there was nothing but excuses and diversions on Dean's end.

Nothing.

No one appeared, nothing strange happened, no crypts opened up.

Just...silence.

The younger Winchester sighed, shaking his head and trying to remind himself that it might be better to never know what Dean was hiding in the first place. More often than not when he snooped too hard, it ended up hurting one or both of them, and Dean always had a reason (no matter how idiotic at times) for keeping things from him. There were days he wished he could trust like he once did. And then he'd remember all the reasons he'd hardened himself against that kind of naivety and be grateful he'd learned his lesson.

Still, he was a scholar by nature. Too curious for his own good at times. But nothing had happened yet, so he leaned back against the wall near his bed, thinking of everything and nothing, trying to drown out the creeping depression that he had felt trying to crawl into him again. He had been so much happier lately, but he'd taken more than enough psychology courses to know it didn't just stop. Through highs and lows, he'd have to deal with the shit that was keeping him in the gloom of his own sadness, but that was always easier said than done.

He fell asleep to something that felt like a soft caress to his face, only it was weirdly internal, like a brush to his mind, and he would have been perturbed or at least inclined to see who or what it was if it hadn't felt so gentle.

He was too tired to fight anyways.

xXx

"Sam Winchester."

Sam turned, positive he was dreaming, because he was in the middle of a desert road. One he had taken a lifetime ago when he'd been at that precarious choice of choosing between doing what he needed to stay alive and sane and doing what was right. There were so many moments like that in his life, he had to wonder which road this actually was.

A man stood behind him, just far enough to show he was non-threatening, but close enough for Sam to touch if he stretched his arm out. He was tall, which was saying something coming from him, and had the kind of face that made you think of a soldier. Someone you'd run to in a fight and cower behind as he told you it would be alright, that he was there to defend you. He had the kind of patient look that you'd trust, simply because there were no lies hidden in the lines of his face and the set of his jaw. Only a beautiful sort of truthfulness that could hurt, but also healed in the ways that mattered.

_How do I even know-_

"Your assessment of me is very flattering, Sam," the man spoke again, and Sam could almost imagine a smile on that stoic face to counter his own confused one. "I will admit, soldier or not, it took no small amount of courage to answer your call. I am at your and your brother's mercy, and I will claim some hesitance where it is due. I was hoping to postpone our meeting a while longer."

"Who are you? Why are you in my dream?" Sam was immediately on the defensive at the mention of his brother. Maybe he was finally about to get some answers. There was a pause, and he wondered if air was necessary, or if he could hold it until the tension broke.

"I am Ezekiel."

_Zeke._

"You're Zeke," Sam breathed, small bits of the puzzle locking into place. "Then you're-"

"An angel, yes. A fallen and broken one, to be certain, but my Grace remains nonetheless."

_No. No, but that would mean-_

"And if you're in my dream, that means you're…" he didn't finish the thought, mind already reeling with terror and memories of a very different time, when he hadn't known all the ramifications of possession. Back before he could do nothing but scream and tear at the presence inside only to be silenced and shoved back into himself. The only blessing had been that most of the time he couldn't see what his own hands were doing, content to sob in a small corner of his subconsciousness and hope that someone-anyone-would end the struggle quickly.

If would have been more merciful for everyone.

He collapsed to his knees, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, though he tried to fight them, not wanting to be vulnerable in front of the angel that was inhabiting his body. He could very dimly remember this face, and the horror he felt when Dean's face became someone else's: someone he didn't recognize.

The angel came forward slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, and Sam thought with a bit of hysteria that he was right to do so. The hunter was so tired, and so _angry_, and he didn't know who he wanted to lash out at first.

"Sam," Ezekiel had a low voice, one that made Sam want to let go of all the bitterness swirling around him right now in favor of listening to the notes his tone could make, but he couldn't listen just yet. He wanted to hurt something, but what could he hurt here besides himself? He was putting the rest together, little slices of memory coming back. "I am deconstructing the memory block, so that you have full knowledge of these past months."

At the mention of a memory wall, with recollection of a moment so much like this one it was giving him whiplash, Sam went rigid and looked up at the angel with agonized eyes. His hands came up to grip at the man's wrists and fist into the material of his jacket. The desperation he could feel from the inside out screamed at him to run, to get away, or stay and beg for mercy that had never been given. "No! No, please, I-I can't deal with them. I've tried, so hard, and I'm only just getting past the-you can't, please, please, don't let them crush me!"

A flash of worry and sympathy passed over Ezekiel's face, and he sunk to his knees in front of Sam's trembling form, and reached carefully towards him, giving him the opportunity to accept or push him away. Sam could feel things returning slowly, like whatever was giving the memories of Dean and Ezekiel's talks back was taking extra care to let him digest each one before they settled along the rest of his subconscious. His eyes stared unseeing at the floor, too wrapped up in trying not to cry and break down to notice anything but his heavily thudding heart.

A small part of him realized they weren't on a road anymore. They were in an asylum and a hospital and a sea of hopelessness.

Strong arms enveloped him in a sheltering embrace and Sam was still for only a moment. He couldn't help but press his face into the shoulder of this creature who he should be furious at, but was comforting him instead. His fingertips pressed into the skin at the nape of the hunter's neck and Sam realized he'd nearly forgotten how good it felt to have contact with someone. How soothing and healing it could be. His own arms returned the gesture, trying to anchor himself to the only thing that was was solid here; the being he could call most tangible.

"Sam, I understand your fears of me restoring your memories and of my presence within you in the first place. Your burdens have been more than any other could have borne, but I would not expect anything less of one with so pure a soul," Ezekiel said, his soft voice a warm blanket Sam could practically feel around his shoulders.

A choked laugh escaped him. "Pure? You've got to be kidding." He froze when a hand brushed through his hair for a moment, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back more tears. The hand moved to tilt his face up and his gaze locked with grey eyes so serious no creature on earth could doubt the sincerity he found there.

"I do not jest about such things. Your soul is untainted, so ethereal in its beauty and splendor that I was nearly overcome with the desire to be near it when your brother asked what could be done to save you. I could hardly find the words to explain to Dean that your body was weakening, and that you would pass on if something was not done immediately." His face was suddenly shuttered, and he lowered his eyes, like he didn't want Sam to see the shame that had crossed them before he'd turned away.

"Again, my intentions were not without fault. I wanted to heal and be wrapped up in the peace your soul could provide. I have been...bereft in many ways since I lost my home to Metatron's schemes. But I consoled myself to think that at least I would not be idle. I would not have to watch as one of the brightest of souls in creation was snatched up by Death to be spirited away. Heaven is barred to all, for the moment, and though I have faith that Death would keep you close and away from harm, I could not help but want to reunite you with your brother and your mission. I was not until after I had already inhabited your body that I understood who you were. For my acts of selfishness, I ask your forgiveness. If there had been another way, had the situation not been so dire, I am certain your brother would have told me to, in his words, 'go fuck myself'."

Sam stared at the angel for a long moment, assessing and taking in the impossible words, before he could feel a helpless giggle escape him, too baffled to let the undignified sound embarrass him. The giggles turned into full fledged laughter, and his hands gripped tighter at the collar of Ezekiel's shirt to reign himself in.

"Did I say something amusing?"

Sam shook his head and let a few more laughs ring out before he gasped for air. "No, no, just...you said 'fuck'."

The bemused expression that met his explanation nearly set him off again. He chuckled and smiled a little. "I'm not...I guess it's like when Cas swears sometimes. It just sounds weird on his voice, like he's testing it out instead of meaning it. I think some angels have a personality to match the profanity, but when they don't, it just...I dunno, it makes it funny I guess." He felt like a complete idiot, but Ezekiel nodded like he understood, so he let it go.

A silence that was tense, but not with anger reigned for a moment before Sam spoke again. "How?" He wasn't surprised when the angel knew what he was asking. He'd had enough time. He knew every word that passed his lips and thought to ever cross his mind. It was terrifying in the same way it was also somehow comforting. Not even Lucifer had given the effort to search out every corner, focused as he'd been on his task rather than his vessel once he had it.

Ezekiel had taken these months and delved so far into Sam, even he didn't know what had been found. Only brief flashes of things lost past or long buried were in the deepest parts of him. And Ezekiel had had all the time in the world to piece them together. Someone knew every part of him.

And they hadn't gone running and screaming for the hills in spite of that.

They were sitting on a beat up old couch with the world at their feet and a loyal golden retriever licking at their toes.

"Your soul has always been unpierced by the world. Despite the grime and gore and heartache that cocoons it, your spirit has not been affected. I cleaned out the last of the demon blood when I healed your body, although you have been expelling it for a long time on your own, but it would not have mattered if I hadn't. Nothing can damage the innate love carried inside of you. For Dean, for your family, and those close to you, for those who never deserved your love in the first place, and for the world at large. You, Sam Winchester, have so much ability to love that not even Lucifer's hate could stamp it out. You are...truly amazing."

And what could Sam do? How could he explain that this creature of power and light-no matter what the track record on angels was, there was no denying this one was more than serious about his job-was all wrong when he was looking at him with awe and respect like no one had in...possibly ever.

"But-"

"No, Sam. Doubt everything else, if you must, but do not doubt this. You are worthy. You are more than worthy. How can you not know that you are clean? You have been forgiven a thousand times over."

_Forgiven_.

There was no stopping the sob that wrenched itself from Sam's throat, collapsing into Ezekiel again as he gasped and cried out in relief and so much tentative joy he thought he might crumble to dust from the tremors that ran through him at the commanding resonance in the angel's voice. The tears were bitter, letting himself understand the weight of everything he'd had to carry. He felt like he had a lifetime of injury and insult to release before he could throw it aside and finally cry because he could feel himself healing. For the first time in his life, he thought that maybe he didn't have to hurt anymore. Maybe the only pain he'd ever need to feel was the wounds he'd inevitably receive from defending the ones he loved and fighting off things that went bump in the night.

He didn't need to keep holding onto everything else.

"Thank you," he whispered, rasping on the words. He was exhausted from the flood of emotions he'd been trying to stave off for years now.

"It is I who must thank you," Ezekiel said simply, and Sam didn't bother to divert the gratitude for once.

Sam didn't know how long they stayed like that before he raised red rimmed eyes to the angel's own steady ones. "How am I tired in my own dream?"

"This is not a dream. It is a place between your conscious and unconscious mind, a space made for those with the patience to find it. All creatures have this place in them, but it takes a great deal of searching to find it. I only happened across it because it is where you like to do most of your thinking. You like to be balanced in a place of fancy and reality when you think, and so traces of Virginia Wolfe's poetry, your Stanford history professor's lessons, Louis Pasteur's theories, and your brother's words led me here where I could call to you as you called for me," Ezekiel explained. Sam decided he might spend more time in the future researching this place Freud would come back from the dead for if he could.

"Oh." It didn't even close to cover the intrigue, but he wasn't judging himself too harshly at the moment for lack of language when his throat was this sore.

"If you prefer it, I will let you pass into sleep and we can meet again when you are more rested. I do not wish for you to suffer if your body is requiring repose." Sam smiled a little at the worried note that entered the angel's tone.

They sat in a classroom where he had first heard the morals of care ethics explained in a way he didn't want to scoff at.

"Mm, nah, I'm good for now. I'm exhausted, yeah, but this is...this is kind of nice. I can see why I like to think here. It's peaceful," he mumbled, listening now that his own fears weren't getting in the way. He could hear the words of scholars, historians, great scientists, philosophers and mathematicians alike. Little snippets of information and songs that he liked to listen to when he had time. Dean and Cas, Charlie and Kevin, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Jess, they were all here too, along with a thousand other voices that he thought about often or hardly at all. Some pleasant and others definitely not.

All of it was here with him and the angel possessing him. The strongest sound here was the slow thump of his heartbeat, mellow and steady now. He was alive, and that was okay with him. More than okay. He welcomed the feeling with long forgotten delight.

Ezekiel could read him, and Sam felt him card his fingers through his hair again. He wondered if he should be telling him to stop, or be feeling more uncomfortable than he was at being so close to another person, or joke that if he kept doing that, Sam was going to take it as invitation. But really in the end what did he care? This was his own mind. He could enjoy the head massage if he felt like it.

A low chuckle followed his musings, and he sighed at the rumble he could feel under his cheek. "I feel compelled to inform you that I anticipated a much longer span of anger and even understood the possibly of being forcibly exiled from your mind and body."

"If anyone had asked a few hours ago, I would have agreed with that."

"What is it that has changed from then to now, Sam?" It was a good question, but one he didn't need to think much about.

"I didn't know how amazing it would feel to have someone see every part of who I am and not use it against me."

They were in his favorite place in the world, a field Dean had shown him while on a basic salt and burn hunt. The grass was soft, with the breeze just cool enough for him to appreciate the warm body keeping the chill away, and the smell of overturned earth and just fallen rain sweet in the night air.

Ezekiel's sheltering arms tightened around him, and he shivered a little in spite of himself. "I was confused, at first, as to why Dean was so hesitant to trust me when I offered my services. I have been absent from Heaven for a number of millenia. My entire purpose in the beginning was to possess and strengthen the men and women my Father asked to be aided. It is the very meaning of my name." _To strengthen, to be the stronghold, to endure in God's love _the wind whispered from remembered old books. All the languages he loved to let flow off his tongue just for the fun of speaking them were here somewhere.

"When He left, I neglected my task in favor of spending some time in solitude to make peace with my family's situation. When I returned, I was baffled and angry at those of my kin who had fallen out of line, but I did not realize how far the despair had reached. I only truly began to understand when your brother spoke of possession like it was something to loathe and fear, a burden accepted only for the sake of keeping you alive." Ezekiel sounded so troubled, Sam almost apologized. Clearly, the habit was going to be no easy thing to break.

Sam could only listen and press closer into the angel's embrace. "I am...so sorry, Sam. For all that you have suffered because for all we play at superiority, angels are as childish as any human. We are simply cloaked in an essence that's older and more durable. If the time spent in your memories had shown me anything, it is that trust in me is going to be hard won with the pair of you. But I _will_ earn it," he vowed, and Sam felt another tremor run through him at the adamant determination he could see when he leaned back to look at Ezekiel's face.

"Why do you want it so much?" he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, and suddenly this was the most important question.

Those grey eyes were millions of years old, and he could see every century in them when they looked at his, that had witnessed barely a blink in comparison. Ezekiel was looking solely at him though, as if he was the most important discovery in all time and space, and questioning how Sam could not _know_.

He looked at Ezekiel, who reached out to take his hand and brought it to his chest, reminding the hunter of ancient warriors and a vow taken to protect, empower, and love until death in battle separated them.

_Oh._

"Because I am _yours_, Sam."

_His._

"When you said earlier that you understood who I was, you meant-" Sam paused and spared a moment for all the times he had denied destiny's existence. There was no such thing, and he would fight for the right to choose until his final breath, but there _was_ such a thing as incredible, breathtaking, impossible chance. And maybe, just this once, his hand had come up royals.

"You are exquisite, in ways you cannot fathom, because you doubt yourself. Everything in me cried out to be united with the soul most perfectly crafted for my Grace. There was always a choice. I have made the wrong one by not seeking you out long before now, but never did I believe I could be so blessed. To be meant for one such as you...the more I explored your heart and mind, the more I understood what it meant to be allowed the gift of being yours. I would be overwhelmed with joy if I were allowed to be at your side, but in everything, your consent is what will allow me to stay, or cast me out. I am in your hands."

Sam stared at Ezekiel, mind reeling with the effort to understand the power he held. _What did it mean if he accepted Ezekiel's request. Were they brothers in arms? The strongest of friends? Lovers? Was he okay with all of those? What if he said no? Did that mean he was crueler than he knew himself to be? Would Ezekiel hate him? Would the angel be alright if he asked for his body back right this very moment? What if-_

Fingers tangling with his own stopped the barrage of questions trying to pull his mind in every direction. They were in his bedroom, he realized. Surrounded by the familiar sight of weapons and books, a T.V. playing an old black and white, and the smell of his shampoo on the sheets.

"You are overthinking this, Sam," Ezekiel murmured gently, and Sam relaxed a little. "I can be any of those things, whenever and however you desire them. I will have what I wish for most if I am allowed to be near you, regardless of the context you want that to be. And though it would pain me greatly to leave you, especially before I can be certain you are completely healed, I do not want you to think of that. Do you understand? Think of yourself, and only yourself, and decide what it is _you _need. Do not feel selfish for deciding what fulfills you. For what other purpose did my Father give free will but to choose your own way?"

Sam didn't think those words had ever been said to him. That it was okay to not decide based on how this might affect Dean, or hunting, or the future, or how the world saw him, or what John would have said, or if it was a mistake or an advantage in the greater scheme of things. If it would last or be taken away as so many things had.

He could ask for the world, and this time, there were no conditions that came with it.

He had his answer, and Sam wasn't sure there had been a question to begin with.

"Be with me?" he pleaded, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Ezekiel's, wondering if he knew what the hell he was stepping into, but it didn't seem to matter. He just needed to be wrapped up in another person right now. Every time he tried to be close to someone, he failed in one way or another.

"I will not forsake you," Ezekiel promised, and Sam squeezed his eyes against tears that wanted to fall again, trying not to let himself cry over every scrap thrown his way, like a dog whimpering under the table, but it was difficult when he was being given something like this. Something he'd craved for so long he didn't know what it meant to stop having to beg for it.

"My love for you is unconditional, Sam. You will never have to ask to gain it. It is already yours."

Fuck, it was exhilarating and nerve wracking to have his innermost thoughts on the angel's lips like that.

"With your permission, I will vacate and allow you the space of your own body. I will return when I have procured my former vessel. Now that I have returned to full strength, I can continue to heal what is left of the damage in you from the outside. There is little to do, but it would set my mind to rest on the matter, if you are amenable to it." The look Ezekiel gave him was one of patient understanding, knowing that Sam's first inclination was to tell him to go and let him heal on his own. The hunter suddenly had the urge to prove them both wrong.

"Okay," he agreed, and he had seconds to register the pleased expression on his angel's face before he was suddenly thrown off balance with being alone in his body.

It was...a muted sort of agony, he supposed, but his soul would adjust and Ezekiel would return...he'd promised.

Shit, he was truly an idiot. When had a promise ever meant anything? Why was he so adamant that Ezekiel would come back? When all else failed, one guarantee was that people broke their promises. And he was no special thing, not anything that would bring-

"Zeke?" He called out brokenly, knowing how foolish he was being, but he couldn't help it. He was sitting on his bed, in the plane of reality instead of the space in his head, and he was alone. Dean was asleep, along with Kevin and Crowley was skulking in the basement while his heart pounded with the fear of being left again. He didn't know how much of that he could take, but he'd reach the end at some point. Probably soon. If all he'd just felt was a dream, or worse, a lie, he'd live. It seemed the world had given him no other choice. But fuck, it would be hard to get back up from a blow like-

"Sam," Ezekiel's voice was just beside him, different now that it was out loud and not just in his head, but infinitely more beautiful. It was real, and deep, and the hunter wanted it to say his name forever.

"Zeke," he whispered, testing the nickname and found that it tasted good on his tongue. "That was, uh, that was quick." The man looked much as he did in his head, the vessel he'd chosen was definitely tall, and had the same soldier's face, with the most honest expression that now harbored his Grace to make his grey eyes even brighter. Most definitely his angel.

_His. That'd take some getting used to._

"I told you I would return. I will not leave you, Sam Winchester. Not unless you send me away."

Sam shook his head, but he let it go. Until he had evidence otherwise, he would tentatively take Zeke at his word. And maybe there was a chance he'd never have to doubt this. "Um, I guess you'll have to stay here tonight, till we can get you a room to stay in." Zeke took his awful change in topic with dignity, offering a look of skepticism at his assessment in living quarters.

"Very well." The way he said it made Sam wonder if he was going to protest the lack of his own space right away, or the fact that he'd have it at all. Sam's heart pounded a bit faster, fully aware of his own feelings on having an attractive person in the same bed as him. He hadn't been with a man-in this case, a non-gendered angel with a male vessel-since college, finding that he prefered the softness of women more often than not, but the devotion practically radiating from the angel along with the appeal of the body he inhabited was making the lack of experience seem like nothing in the face of what he could have.

"What is it that holds you back right now, Sam?" Zeke asked, and the hunters face was immediately flushed with the embarrassment at being so obvious the angel didn't even _need _to be in his head to know what he was thinking about. "Why do you hesitate to take what you want?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could explain without words all the events and lessons and fears that were swirling around in him at the same time.

"I told you I would accept whatever type of companionship you wished us to inhabit, and I meant it wholeheartedly. But, if you would like reassurance, I can admit wanting more than anything to be allowed the pleasure of lying with you. Your physical attributes are more than pleasing, and your soul is stronger than a siren's call to my Grace. If it is my interest that makes you falter, do not let it hinder you. I would consent wholeheartedly," Zeke murmured, and Sam's cheeks heated up at the bold words. Fuck, he wanted that. Wanted to lose himself in the unconditional love being offered, but it wasn't fair. How could he do that, when he barely let himself love the people that had surrounded him for years?

"I don't know if I can…" _Love you._ _What if after everything, I decide you aren't what I want? What if, despite our best intentions I want to stop after a few months? Or even in the middle of this first try? What'll you do if I panic when I realize how far I've let myself go to trust you so implicitly?_

"I do not expect declarations of love. Not now, or ever, if the feelings you harbor are discovered to be different than you originally thought." A small smile quirked the corners of Zeke's mouth. "Angels and emotions rarely mix on the whole anyways, though I adore every part of the ones I experience in your presence. I will not grow weary of waiting for words that are meaningless in comparison to actions. You can have any part of me, and should you decide that physical intimacy is not something you want with me, I will love you still, in the way you need me to. You have all the time you require to explore them fully." He stared into Sam's eyes, willing him to understand what he meant.

When Sam leaned forward with a moan of the angel's name, it felt like homecoming. His mouth met a firm, unyielding one, before suddenly it gave way under his lips to kiss back while immeasurably gentle hands came to rest on his sides. They tugged him closer so they could wrap around his back, one hand resting in his hair and the other pressing to his chest to feel his heartbeat. It made him shiver to be kissed like this for the first time in so long. He'd forgotten that not all angels were as uninterested in sex as Cas, though he had to wonder if that had changed since he and Dean had been reunited on the bunker, but that wasn't what he wanted to think about now.

Instead, he let his mind travel to the ghosting kisses that Zeke was pressing against his lips now, pulling away to dart back in, again twice more before the kiss turned passionate, the angel's tongue requesting his acquiescence to come and play. Sam sighed happily and opened his mouth to let Zeke lick into it, hot and wet and giving as much as he took.

"It has been some time since I partook in this kind of activity," the angel sighed against the sensitive skin of Sam's neck, and the hunter let out a soft sound of agreement when he tipped his head back farther to give Zeke more of his throat to explore. "Has much changed since the last time I walked the earth?"

Sam laughed a little, mind blanking a little at the agelessness of this creature running his hands through the long strands of his hair to tug a little. It was shiver-inducing, the way he pulled as if he knew exactly what kind of kinks Sam wished were indulged a little more often. In a way, he did, and it was definitely going to be Sam's undoing, he was sure.

"Probably not much. Mostly just the names have changed, with language being one of the most fluid parts of society," he said, slipping into the even tones of explanation as Zeke began to slowly unbutton his shirt, tracing fingertips over each new patch of skin until Sam could shrug the garment off his shoulders and do the same for his angel.

They unwrapped each other carefully, with Sam telling Zeke of the things people did that might be a little different or not at all, and of the things he most wanted the angel to do to him. He lay back against the pillows when they were bared to each other, raking his eyes over the exquisite man's body and spreading his legs to let Zeke settle between them. A low moan worked its way from both of their throats when Sam pressed up to bring their hips together, and his foray into sociology vanished in favor of feeling as much of Zeke as he could. Their lips met again in a series of unhurried kisses, content to just rock against each other and be aroused in that slow burning way Sam didn't think he'd allowed himself since Jess.

He could feel broad hands sliding over his hips and sides, gripping just under the curve of his ass to pull them together more firmly, and he whimpered a little at the feeling of slick heat pooling between them. "Have me?" he asked, suddenly shy, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. His size gave most the impression of being in control. "Large and in charge" one woman had said in some bar a lifetime ago, but _god _there was nothing better than letting someone have the reigns for a bit.

His trusting nature-though problematic in his world at large-was so rarely satisfied, it made things so much more intense when it finally was. He'd been with women for long enough that he'd forgotten how much he wanted someone to fill him instead, and there hadn't been enough time or willingness with them to explore anything but the standard fare that was good, but not what he was wanting right now.

He whined and arched his back a little when Zeke's eyes grew darker and pressed a wet, open kiss against his neck, one hand in his hair and the other reaching between them to close around his length and stroke him in slow, steady jerks that were making his breath come faster and his legs fall open a little more.

"As you wish." Fuck, unintentional references aside, Zeke's voice alone was doing a number on the rhythm of his heartbeats, sweeping over him with all the intimacy of someone who was about to fuck you until you could barely walk the next day, and _ohgod _Zeke had found the lube he kept in the side table. Eyes squeezed shut, he could hear the telltale snick of a cap being opened, and the sound of gel being rubbed between the angel's fingers.

Slick fingertips traveled along his body and teased down to his entrance, rubbing along it in easy touches until Sam felt himself relax when he hadn't known he carried any tenseness in the first place. Zeke's eyes were on his face when he dazedly opened his eyes, intense in a way that made Sam feel completely seen. For some reason, that wasn't nearly as horrifying as it had been. This set of eyes was not hateful or judging or condemning.

There was nothing but devotion in them, and the fiercest of love.

A long finger pushed into him, taking its time to work into him with each tense of his body. "Open yourself to me, Sam," Zeke murmured, waiting until Sam nodded and relaxed before he began to glide it in and out, a teasing drag that quickly lit a fire in the hunter's belly when his prostate was stroked with purpose.

"And I am barely touching you," the angel whispered breathlessly, biting Sam's neck gently at first, until Sam whimpered and his teeth gripped him a little harder.

"Not made of glass," he panted, raking blunt fingernails down Zeke's back and smiling when it made the angel tremble.

"No," Zeke agreed, and poured more lube onto his hand before he added another finger, working Sam open until his cock was dripping with anticipation. Zeke wasn't too far behind, his other hand coming up to tease at his chest and roll a nipple between his fingers until he could lean down to curl his tongue around it. A third was pressed into him eventually, and if Zeke didn't take him right now, Sam thought he might scream. "More durable than diamond, and infinitely more treasured."

Sam keened brokenly at the worshipful words, shaking his head against the angel's shoulder where he was trying to catch his breath when Zeke pulled his fingers out of him, leaving him feeling bereft and empty, only to feel something larger and hotter against his entrance. Fuck, he had seen. Zeke was big, and it had been way too long since he'd been with a guy.

"Are you alright, Sam?" A reminder that he was setting the pace.

He breathed in deeply and nodded, pressing his face into Zeke's neck, mumbling, "Yeah, I'm fine." His mouth opened on a wordless gasp against hot skin when Zeke began to sink into him. _Oh._ The squeeze was tight, and a little painful, but fuck he was being filled and his angel was being so careful like he was something to protect instead of break and he felt so loved, so loved, and then-

"Zeke!" He cried out when his body gave way to accept his angel, feeling him buried to the hilt in his body and it felt so good, intense and not nearly enough until Zeke was certain he was ready and he began a slow cadence, making up for the lack of fast with hard, deep thrusts, fucking into his body while his hands and mouth sought to brand every part of him with their touch.

_Worship. _That's what this was. The way Zeke was covering his body like it was his to possess even from the outside, to heal and protect in spite of Sam's past, or his scars, or the self-loathing that sometimes threatened to take him out.

He was being taken apart molecule by molecule and reorganized into something maybe he could learn to like a little better. He wondered what a month, or two, or eternity would do to him if this angel was with him the whole way. It was too soon to think of that now, way too early to know what he could reasonably ask for, but he didn't feel like being rational.

He wrapped his legs around Zeke, and pulled him in further, not wanting space for his own insecurities to wedge between them, letting his angel pleasure him and moan words of praise and encouragement into his ear while he thrust into him again and again and again until Sam could feel his end building.

It took him by surprise, the moment he couldn't hold on anymore, but Zeke brushed over his prostate so perfectly, on an offbeat moment caught between a whine and a hand wrapped around his cock, and he was gone. He came, trembling and arched into the angel's touch, with a reverent call of his name.

Zeke stilled his movements, watching him as he fell apart at the seams, hand wringing him out until he squirmed at the oversensitivity of his softening length and Zeke leaned down to kiss him, a sloppy, wet affair that was as affectionate as it was heated.

Sam hissed when Zeke pulled out of him, still hard, and lay there for a moment, panting for breath and watching the other man stroke himself while looking into Sam's eyes with rapt attention. The hunter made a shaky movement to help, but Zeke just tangled their fingers together and brought their entwined hands to his chest while he thrust into his fist and shook his head. "Next time," he said, and _oh god _it made Sam wish he was young and insatiable again the way Zeke's voice rumbled over that promise.

He watched as Zeke sped up, head lolling heavenward for a moment before he squeezed Sam's hand and came over the hunter's stomach, a broken gasp of his name spilling from reddened lips. He came down slowly, obviously delighting in the way Sam was tracing fingertips up and down his chest and abs. The hunter sighed when Zeke finally lowered himself to his back and pulled Sam against his chest, on top of the angel. Zeke was practically purring in contentment and Sam was pretty sure he was too, blissed out and feeling well fucked and satisfied for the first time in ages.

"You meant it," Sam broke the stillness long minutes after they'd regained their breath, lazily drawing patterns on his angel's jaw, running fingers through his hair while Zeke did the same. It was half a question and half an awed statement.

"Of course," Zeke said, answering both of these, and cradled him closer to begin their drift into sleep.

"No one ever meant it before," Sam admitted, holding his breath as the world began to blur at the edges.

There was a sleepy chuckle that was sad and deliriously happy at the same time.

"I believe the phrase is 'their loss.'"

A hunter and an angel slept, soldiers marching to a drumbeat all their own.

_Fin_

**Read and Review! Feedback is loved and appreciated.**


End file.
